Hotel
by checkerboxed
Summary: [oneshot][roxel] there's only one bed... and what do they MEAN they can't switch us to another room?


_disclaimer_: if i owned axel, do you seriously think i'd be sitting here writing about him? i'd be making him buy me sea salt ice cream, is what i'd be doing!

(rated M for a reason. don't say I didn't warn you.)

_--------  
Hotel  
_Checkerboxed  
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"So," says Axel, dropping his bags on the carpeted floor, "This is it."

Roxas pushes the door farther open with his hip, trying without much success to pull his overlarge backpack through the doorway. He glances around the stark hotel room and groans. "There's only one bed," he observes, frowning. "Was I supposed to bring a sleeping bag?"

Axel, who has flopped face first onto the bed, sighs dramatically. "No," he says, voice muffled by the thin comforter, "They gave us the wrong room." He flips over, glaring at the ceiling, as if it is the moldy white paint is at fault. Then he sits up, reaching for his bag.

"I'm going to call the boss; he can give those morons downstairs a good yelling at." Before he can flip open the sleekly lined cell phone, Roxas pulls it out of his hand and tosses it onto the dresser.

"It's fine," he reassures his friend, "I'll just call down to the front desk. I'm sure they'll have another room for us..." He reaches for the telephone and frowns, reading the number list on the dresser. Then he tucks the phone under his ear, head tilted away from Axel, and dials, mouthing the numbers as he dials them. Axel finds himself staring at the white skin of his friend's neck, mesmerized. He wants to reach out and brush the long blonde strands away from that neck, press his lips to the juncture at the shoulder. He shakes himself out of that line of thought and busies himself with going through the dressers, looking for loose munny.

Finding none, he turns, just in time to see Roxas hang up the phone angrily.

"They're all booked," he mutters, glowering at the phone. "And nobody's checking out in time to switch rooms." Roxas sighs, and then reaches for the tiny cupboard between the bed and the wall. "There are probably extra blankets in here," he says, and, sure enough, he pulls out several neatly folded sheets and a blanket. There isn't an extra pillow.

Roxas hands them to Axel. "Make yourself comfortable," he says with a grin, and then flops down on the bed, kicking off his shoes. Axel stares down at the blankets in his hands, and then glares. "Who said _you _get to have the bed?"

Burrowing comfortably down into the single pillow, Roxas smirks. "_I _did. I'm on it, aren't I?"

There is a pause, during which Axel assesses his options. Finding no other option, he kicks off his own black boots and launches himself onto the bed in an attempt to jostle Roxas off of it. This, however, fails to work, so he tries another approach; reaching out, he wiggles his fingers across his friend's stomach, causing Roxas to squirm, breathless, beside him. Laughing, they engage in a heated tickling war, until they are both too breathless to laugh any longer.

Axel has somehow managed to pin Roxas beneath him, and his hands rest on both sides of the blonde head. Roxas's black t-shirt has inched its way up his stomach, revealing smooth, pale skin, and Axel stares, wide-eyed, down at him. There is a long moment, during which both boys stare at each other, and then Axel is scrambling off him, wincing.

Clutching his side, he squints his eyes shut. "Owwww," he complains, sitting down on the floor. Roxas sits up, vaguely concerned. "You okay?"

Axel looks up at him, pouting. "My side hurts."

Roxas rolls his eyes. "That's from laughing so hard, moron," he says, and then yawns. They both glance at the clock, and Roxas's eyes widen. "It's _late_," he says. The clock reads 11:19.

Axel shrugs. "Not really."

Roxas stares at him as if he's crazy. "It's two hours late for bed!"

His friend returns the look. "You go to bed at nine? That's, oh, four hours before I do." He sighs, standing up, and pulls off his long black jacket. "Fine, I'll turn in now too." Slipping into the bed in only his boxers, he grins at Roxas. "But I get the bed."

Roxas pulls on a fresh t-shirt. Then he glances around the room. There is only one pillow, which Axel's fiery red hair is currently leaning on. "Can't we just share the bed?" he asks plaintively, crossing his arms to cover his shivering. He is wearing simply a t-shirt and boxers, and the room is cold. Axel takes one look at his friend's pouting lip and rolls his eyes, shifting over on the bed to give Roxas some room. The bathroom light is still on, illuminating the room just a little.

Roxas rolls onto it gratefully, burrowing under the covers. He doesn't bother asking Axel for the pillow; he won't be so lenient this time, so he merely curls his arms underneath his head and hopes he doesn't have arm cramps in the morning.

Axel sighs heavily and rolls over onto his back, eyes closed. Roxas watches him, eyes nearly shut. He isn't sure why his heart skips a beat as his eyes flick down to his friend's bare chest, so he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to go to sleep.

After what seems like forever, he realizes that he is not going to fall asleep anytime soon. He stares at the ceiling for awhile, and then his neck begins to hurt, so he glances at Axel. He's taking up the entire pillow, so there's no hope of Roxas squeezing in some space-- but his chest looks rather more inviting. So after a long moment of debating, Roxas scooches over and lays his head on Axel's firm torso.

It's uncomfortable, because he's trying not to snuggle up next to him, so his neck is stretched sideways while the rest of his body is facing the ceiling. Roxas sighs shallowly, trying not to disturb his friend.

He tries not to jump when the arm closest to him snakes under his neck to rest, lightly, on his waist. Roxas twists his head even farther, trying to look up at Axel, but he can't, so he moves closer instead. Axel is warm, and this position isn't as uncomfortable as he had originally thought.

Except then Axel's hand snakes under Roxas's shirt.

From the time Roxas slipped under the covers beside him, Axel has been trying to hold as still as possible. He'll just get through the night, he thinks, and he's fairly resolute in this-- until Roxas tucks himself against him, small and warm and _so_ close. And Axel can't help but pull him closer.

After a moment, he slips his hand under Roxas's t-shirt, eyes screwed shut from embarrassment. He slides it slowly up Roxas's side, until the tips of his fingers brush a soft nipple, and suddenly he's lost all self control. He pulls his arm out from under Roxas and flips over so that he's kneeling on top of him, one knee between his thighs, one hand propping him up near Roxas's head, the other sliding up his shirt, fingers searching for the soft bud they discovered earlier. He refuses to look at Roxas's face, to read his expression; from the soft gasp he makes when Axel lowers his head to press a line of kisses down his chest, he knows Roxas is awake.

His fingers tease the quickly hardening nipple, and then his mouth moves upward to circle it with his tongue, and then suck, quickly, before moving to the other. Below him, Roxas is frozen, but when Axel bites down, the hips below him arch upwards, and Axel grins. He runs a hand down Roxas's flat stomach, fingers circling his belly button, before they move the trace the line of his boxers. He flicks a finger beneath the band, out again. Roxas groans. With this encouragement, Axel traces a line downward with his tongue, stopping when he feels fingers in his hair, pulling him upward. He glances up at Roxas, and the desire in the pale face is his undoing. He jerks upward, leaning in to crash his mouth into Roxas's, sweeping his tongue along the bottom lip, and Roxas's lips part beneath him.

As they kiss, Axel can feel Roxas's hands sliding over his bare chest, down toward his boxers. There is fire pooling inside of him, a fire that rages and swells between his legs-- he gasps and pulls back. Staring down at Roxas, there are a thousand thoughts running through Axel's mind, most of them _this is a mistake, but oh-god it feels so good…_

"_Shit_," he whispers, flipping off of him for the second time tonight, face as red as his hair. "I'm sorry…" He tumbles off the bed and into the bathroom, where he solves the problem which has been growing, and then he stares at himself in the sink, wondering what the hell is wrong with him. Roxas is not... he's straight. Axel is older; he shouldn't--

Axel sighs, running a hand through his hair, his heart still racing. He doesn't know if he can get back into bed with Roxas... all his self restraint has fled.

He shivers. Roxas was right; it is cold in the hotel room. He stays in the bathroom for as long as he can before he opens the door and crawls back into bed, as far from Roxas as he can. He crosses his arms and closes his eyes, and then his heart stops beating for a second.

Roxas has moved closer, close enough that his knees are hitting the back of Axel's thighs, and he's tracing patterns across Axel's back. He traces his fingers across his shoulder blades, down his spine, up and down his sides. Axel shivers, eyes shut, hands clenched. _Don't_, he wants to say, _don't test me_, but he can't seem to get the words out.

Roxas speaks for them both. "I didn't mind," he says, his voice quiet. Axel turns so he can face him, and is slightly heartened by how nervous his bedmate looks. "I, I… well— I liked it…" The light is still on in the bathroom, and Axel can see a flush spread across his face.

Grinning, Axel reaches out, pulling Roxas close. They listen to each other's heart beat for a long moment. Then Axel leans closer and rests his cheek against Roxas's hair. "Me too," he whispers, pressing his lips to the blonde head.

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Downstairs, two men lean against the check in desk. Both are blonde, though the younger one has no facial hair to speak of. He plucks a few strings on the guitar-like instrument hung off his thin shoulders and grins. "Do you think they'll actually do it?" Demyx asks.

Beside him, Luxord grins. "I'm willing to bet on it. You?" Demyx is smart enough not to bet against Luxord— they didn't call him the _Gambler of Fate_ for nothing. He shakes his head.

Luxord glances at his watch. He wonders what the boss would think if he knew that two of his best field agent had spent the night playing matchmaker. Then he sighs. "We should probably head out," he says, "the boss'll be waiting for us."

Demyx glances sideways at him, slyly. "Race you back," he says. Luxord stares at him for a moment, and then the two are gone, dashing through the swinging doors and out of the parking lot.

(end)

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oh. wow.  
so I honestly _don't_ write or read this kind of stuff.  
which is why i'm sort of totally confused as to how I managed to spit this out.

hmmm.  
anyways, if you liked it, please review.

...I DON'T EVEN LIKE THEM AS A PAIRING! what is WRONG WITH ME?

(ahem) sorry about the ending. i know. it sucks.


End file.
